Waves of Grass

The grass is ready to harvest. And for those of you living in a field of asphalt, the grass is cut, raked and bailed over the course of some carefully selected dry days. The field grows again, and the process is repeated throughout the season. But that first cut is the most intoxicating. It has the winter and spring in its green lushness. I rode by a field yesterday with almost nowhere to go and almost no one waiting for me and almost home. I watched the wind making the most mesmerizing waves on the grass and I beelined for the field on my bike.

I rode through the waves with my feet plunging into the tops of the green. My tire parted the grass and wildflowers like a rudder and I soaked in the bright June sun. It was epic and beautiful and mesmerizing.  And made all the more perfect because I know that the grass will be gone today, mown down, raked and bailed, and I will ride by with the sweet smell of freshly cut hay and the awesome memory of the grass flowing between my toes like water.